


secret keeping (as tried by idiots)

by psychedelicbubblegum



Category: The Mummy Series
Genre: Clem and Alex can't hide shit, Dorks in Love, F/M, Imhotep is back, POV First Person, Still mouldy, Totally not a crush, help i've fallen down tagging and can't get up, my historical accuracy cannot be vouched for, no damsels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 02:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12973272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychedelicbubblegum/pseuds/psychedelicbubblegum
Summary: In which there's an Imhotep, some poorly disguised feelings, and 'keeping this quiet' works as well as a chocolate teapot.





	secret keeping (as tried by idiots)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Accidental_Ducky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accidental_Ducky/gifts).



The air in Evy’s study was becoming tighter by the moment as Alex furiously paced across the room, clearly one step away from tearing his hair out judging by the way he kept hurriedly trying to smooth it down in the panicked static which had overwhelmed the heady room.

 

“Shit, shit, shit,” the word were being spat out, stuttering as if a backfiring car, hurriedly avoiding the chance of lingering in the air to uncomfortably ferment as Alex’s hands fell helplessly away from his tangled hair and began clenching desperately down by his sides, footsteps echoing in the brief silence that followed as we both uselessly tried to conjure a solution to our latest (and seemingly unstoppable) predicament.

 

Imhotep.

 

A mummy – the same goddamn scheming, rotting, bloodthirsty parasite who’d tried to eviscerate, skin and brutalise several of my loved ones countless times before – was roaming the streets as we tried to formulate an action plan; ending multiple lives, hurting dozens of innocent bystanders, plotting fuck-knows-what, but all I knew was things were going to get ugly real soon if we didn’t take some form of stand against him.

 

Heavy prickles of heat had begun rolling across my skin as the increasing nerves began to take over, and an ugly shudder passed through my body as sweat began to gather under the clenched shield of my fists and across the expanse of my back, perspiration seeming to physically express the feeling of dread pooling in my stomach. In theory I should’ve been cool – Alex had cracked the windows open the second we’d walked into the study and the burst of warm air had warned us both of the sweltering atmosphere – and I was dressed in my chiffon cream dress decorated in cerulean coloured butterflies with thin straps and a leather belt tied across the waist, mahogany hair curled and clipped back from my face with a mountain of hairgrips, handwoven sandals on my feet (a gift from Alex when he was vacationing in Iraq when we were fifteen) and mum’s tassel pendant hanging around my neck.

 

The desk draws had been wrenched open by this point and Alex was hurriedly tipping out the content, with something telling me he was looking for one of his dad’s pistols (guess spending more than three days around my Uncle Larry had that influence on a guy) out the fear Imhotep would magically teleport to our location for a bit of midnight slaughtering (then again I couldn’t hold it against the guy – Imhotep’s abilities were as unpredictable as they were powerful…), as paper flew across the room, tiny albatrosses battering against the autumnal walls in Alex’s panic.

 

Various pieces of paper were now cascading across the room – a pale waterfall swirling hypnotically, I knew they were reflecting a milky blur against my eyes (teal, one of mum’s favourite colours alongside jade and coral) – and I could tell Alex was one step away from throwing the desk draw itself in his desperation, snapping me out of my almost dazed state (both trying, and failing, to formulate a plan to battle a decaying would-be dictator and staring at the paper swirling in front of my eyes) and I surged forwards, my arm flying out and grabbing a hold of Alex’s shoulder before he yanked the draw out of the chest, turning him around so we were standing face to face.

 

Alex’s tall, broad shouldered body was shaking slightly in frustration; an exasperated flush had formed upon his usually tanned flesh, looking almost out of place in its mottled, reddened state, clashing against the sunniness of his soft hair; azure eyes glowing in the near panic attack level state he’d worked himself up into now the knowledge Imhotep was roaming the earth and he’d taken the weight on his shoulders that it was up to him (and in some ways him alone) to stop the being who’d caused his family so much trauma.

 

“Hey,” my voice sounded airy and reedy from my own panicked state at seeing the guy I in no way had feelings for reach such a state of desperation and almost hopelessness, causing a burning sensation of nausea to hit me in a sudden wave as I began to gently squeeze his shoulder and rubbed the skin carefully with my fingertips, my own anxiety over Alex’s condition hitting me hard. “Hey, hey, hey, take a breath,” I ushered. “Just breathe Alex, okay? We need to look at the facts here, alright? We can do this. We can stop Imhotep – he isn’t going to continue hurting people, especially your family! We’re not going to let him do this! But we can’t just do this overnight. This isn’t something we can take care of in a day. It’s going to take time and research and more people on our side. And yes, I know you want to do this solo, go after Imhotep with your gun and shoot him back into the crypt single handed-”

 

“Clem, I’m not dragging you into this!” He looked objectively horrified, one of his large, weathered hands coming to rest over my own, eyes widening in shock at the idea I’d be accompanying him physically in mummy slaying duties.

 

I was more than aware Alex ideally wanted me to stay behind at my flat delivering information to him, away from the fighting and the ancient demonic entity, but I was by no means a good mate if I was leaving him to fight a violent monster, even if he had more knowledge of Egyptology than half the kids attending university with us. In the mind of Alex O’Connell, keeping me safe meant keeping me out of the way locked in a vault, but sitting back and letting him fight a supernatural creature with infinite powers we had rare knowledge of the limits or range of was off the cards as far as I was concerned. In his flustered state, Alex also didn’t appear to be considering that leaving me alone with perhaps only a couple friends of his and a gun was just putting me on the ‘damsel in distress’ pedestal for whatever would constitute our climactic battle as he’d warned me how petty the numerously resurrecting wannabe-pharaoh had proven himself to be, and – being small, described as ‘sweet’ looking and glaringly female – I had a feeling that would be my assigned role for these events if the scenario played out in the obvious fashion, whether I contested it or not.

 

Damsel was not going to be my role for this little situation, definitely not.

 

“You aren’t dragging me into anything, you pillock!” I snapped, my ‘common’ accent overwhelming any posh overtones nan and granddad had tried to teach me with the playful insult I’d assigned him when we were kids, and I knew that my eyes were burning now with the fiery undertone the women of my clan seemed to always inherit. “Alex, I’m coming with you on this, whether you like it or not! I’m not just going to sit around prettily and let you get torn to shreds by a festering corpse or allow him to kidnap me and lock me up in some tower! I know defeating him means a lot to you – of course it does, the wanker’s ruined your families’ lives even before you were born – but you can’t do this alone and I won’t let you! Not only is it not safe closing yourself off, but you’ll be playing right into his hand if you try and go solo! What he probably expects is you to run in there, guns blazing-” no pun intended “thinking you can take him down in one move and then he’ll be free to rule the world or whatever his new hobby is this time. Don’t be predictable, and bringing other people along isn’t predictable for you – Lone Ranger O’Connell.”

 

“It won’t be safe!” Alex weakly protested, but I’d made up my mind by this point, and like mum and Aunt AJ I was infuriatingly/endearingly (depending on whom you were) stubborn once I’d come to a conclusion.

 

“I never said it would be safe!” I insisted, and I could tell his will was slipping as he began to nibble his lip in an age old habit and his grip loosened a little, blinking softly as he seemed to look around. “But what I am saying is you need is allies in this! Even your dad had allies and he’s as stubborn as they come, even more than me and you combined in our own ways! Besides…” I looked back to the swell of paper littering the floor. “You’re clearly driving yourself half-mad with all the stress this is putting you under, and I won’t stand by and watch Imhotep win by letting you lose your mind over worry. I know it’s dangerous…” I sighed, my grip tightening a little on the broad expanse of skin, our eyes meeting again and I shot him a smile composed of nerves and the tiniest hint of infatuation. “But I’m not letting you do this by yourself and I’m old enough to take care of myself, older than you even! And this isn’t exactly the first time I’ve been in a fight.” I raised my eyebrows in a daring manner. “I’m Yorkshire, born and bred, do you have any idea how many annoying drunk farmers I’ve had to bollock when they tried getting touchy feely after a few drinks?”

 

“They what!?” He flushed even redder then in clear anger and shock, but I chose to press on and not allow him to wind himself up about more things he couldn’t control.

 

“Nothing I couldn’t handle – okay? I know I’m smaller than you and didn’t spend my entire life meeting cutthroats and fighting the forces of evil, but I don’t like to think of myself as naïve or unprepared for the worst, and you’re my best friend, Alex.” My smile broadened, causing my ‘almost dimples’ as dad called them, to show as my eyes sparkled with what I hoped was determination and not embarrassing hopeless attraction I desperately hid from him. “I’m not letting you do this alone, alright?”

 

“…Alright,” he muttered after a moment’s pause, flushing a little again – although this time a gentle pink instead of a sudden shock of scarlet – as he stared around his mum’s study at the chaos he’d caused in his terrified rush to find a weapon of some sorts in the impending threat of Imhotep making an unannounced house call. “But we’re not involving Tucker and Dot, okay?” He whispered, his own hand uncurling from around my slender wrist and coming down to gently tilt my chin up so we could make clearer eye contact. “I’m already uneasy enough about getting you involved, never mind them,” he muttered. “Plus your ‘aunt’ would kill me either of them got so much as a scrape and I’d rather die dignified at the hands of a mummy than being suffocated by a mountain of clothes!”

 

“You strike a hard bargain O’Connell,” I mustered a smile that wasn’t built on nerves and panic or a need to convince him to listen to my explanation, although I was aware a blush was beginning to creep up from my neck at the closeness between us, not to mention how many romance novels we were mirroring now (not that I fantasised about kissing Alex…much) ,but I didn’t want to voice this in case an awkwardness blossomed as a grin materialised on my face. “But it’s a deal.”

 

“And you don’t-”

 

He didn’t get to finish his sentence as the door to the study flew open, causing us both to instantly whip our bodies in the direction of the sudden bang of the door, the panic of Imhotep having arrived fresh in our minds and clearly being our instant thought of the sudden loud noise.

 

Luckily (or perhaps unluckily) it wasn’t a misshapenly bandaged mummy standing in front of us in the opened doorway.

 

It was Tucker.

 

“So!” He grinned nervously, brow furrowing a little in obvious nervousness. “Imhotep eh?”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this an age ago but thought I should share it with the masses so you all can (hopefully) enjoy Alexander O'Connell interacting with my OC, Clementine Scott (aka Ms. I'm Not a Damsel), who totally doesn't like him romantically...but at the same time kinda does. Tucker Henderson (and his lovely sister Dorothea, who sadly isn't physically present in this particular episode) are property of Accidental_Ducky so please give all praise for them to her! Hope you all enjoy and please review if you feel like it!
> 
> Also I'm co-writing another tale (https://archiveofourown.org/works/12351183/chapters/28092894) with a friend of mine so I'd appreciate anyone checking it out! Cheers x


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